


Post-Disaster Exhaustion

by LostCybertronian



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-13 19:15:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28533519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LostCybertronian/pseuds/LostCybertronian
Summary: Disaster after disaster has struck the USS Enterprise, but once it dies down there comes a much greater challenge: Captain Kirk must convince Spock that he does, in fact, need sleep.
Relationships: James T. Kirk/Spock, Spirk - Relationship
Comments: 5
Kudos: 83





	Post-Disaster Exhaustion

Disaster after disaster struck: first, a Klingon attack, resulting in heavy damage to the Enterprise and an emergency stop on Vulcan; second, a distress call from a Starfleet ship in the far reaches of space that turned out to be fabricated, and a black hole that was anything but fabricated; third, a malicious shapeshifter; fourth, well, Jim had lost track at that point. But he did know that the entire crew-- himself included-- had been run ragged by the constant crises, and that, by the time everything settled down, he was dead on his feet.

Yet Spock continued, remaining at his station even as alpha shift departed, a group of officers so exhausted no one even bothered to speak.

“Are you coming, Captain?” Uhura asked as Jim paused, hesitating at the door to the lift in favor of turning back toward Spock.

But Jim barely heard her. *How long has it been since you’ve slept, Spock?* He asked through their bond, probing tentatively, but only finding firm resistance. _It’s been at least since I slept last._ >

_Vulcans do not require as much sleep as humans._ Was Spock’s reply. Automatic.

“Captain?” Chekov called. “I wish for my bed.”

“Yes?” Jim looked over his shoulder at his crew. “Go on without me,” he replied, “I’d like to speak with Mr. Spock for a moment.”

There came a chorus of “yes Captains,” and a few shrugs, then the door to the lift closed and they were gone.

“We only have a few minutes until the next shift arrives to take us over,” Kirk said, crossing the bridge to the science station, which Spock still diligently occupied. “I’d rather us be gone before then.” He ran a hand through his already mussed hair. “I don’t particularly want to speak with Ensign Parker today.”

Spock didn’t look up. “He does tend to be overeager.” 

Kirk nodded. “Yes, indeed. Just the other day he--” he paused-- “am I correct in assuming, Mr. Spock, that you are trying to change the subject?”

One eyebrow arched, and Spock raised his head to meet his gaze. “Your assumptions do prove logical.”

“You know,” Jim said, offering two fingers which his second immediately went to meet. “I could order you to rest, as your captain.”

“I believe that would be infringing on the boundaries of an intimate conversation, Captain.” One had to know Spock well to hear the frown in his otherwise monotonous tone, but also to see the willingness there; he _would_ do as Jim commanded, were he to command. That was how he respected Jim.

But Jim didn’t command; that was how he respected Spock. He bent close to his ear, well aware of the lift’s doors sliding open behind them, of beta crew emerging. _You will collapse eventually, Spock. Please come get some rest._

He felt Spock give, felt the weariness trickling through their bond as he shut down his microscope and stood from his station. _Very well._

The beta crew began to trickle in as Spock and Jim made their way out, ignoring the confused glances and quiet murmurs. Ensign Parker opened his mouth to say something, but the lift door had already shut. 

Jim hadn’t intended to shower when he returned to his quarters-- whenever that happened to be-- but he was certainly glad he did when he got out, finally clean of dirt and blood and sweat and smelling faintly of his favorite cologne. 

Spock opened one eye when Jim entered his quarters. He opened the other when the captain approached. A thick, green robe draped over his shoulders, and cinched at his narrow waist. The heavy sleeve fell from his wrist when he raised two fingers to meet his. 

“I can feel your exhaustion,” Spock observed, soft. Softer than he usually addressed Jim. “Perhaps it would be prudent for you to sleep.”

“I am exhausted,” Jim agreed, and stretched, feeling days of stress melt from his tired muscles at Spock’s unyielding calm. “I feel like I could sleep for a million years.”

“Such a feat would be physically impossible, for a human.” Clearly, they still had some work to do on Earth metaphors. 

Jim chuckled. “Most definitely.” He extended a hand. “Join me?”

Spock smiled-- still a beautiful sight that set Jim’s heart aflutter, as if it were the first time he was seeing it-- and took his hand, rising from his meditation mat. “I do find myself quite tired,” he admitted, and Jim grinned.

“I didn’t think I’d ever hear you, Mr. Spock, admit to being tired,” he teased. “What a human thing to say.”

One delicate eyebrow arched. “I should hope you wouldn’t repeat it.”

They settled onto Jim’s bed, a tangle of limbs and drowsy bond. Neither could be sure what was theirs and what wasn’t.

“Your secret is safe with me,” Jim promised, after a moment of quiet content. 

Spock nodded but said nothing more, seeming satisfied to watch the lure of sleep pull Jim under.


End file.
